This Christmastime
by Erileen
Summary: Even the strongest of bonds can begin to dissolve under the right circumstances, and the Hunters are no exception...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural in any way, shape or form**

**Author's Note: This was supposed to be a Christmas one shot but it grew...and grew...and eventually grew to the point where I got afraid of it and hid. Of course, as we all know, the plot bunnies don't respond well to being hidden from, and before I knew it I was working on this again, nearly a month after Christmas. It's exciting stuff - my first story longer than two parts in nearly a year. Excitement?**

**Warnings: Language. _Lots _of language. But this story is revolving around several hunters, so what do you expect?**

_I'll be home for Christmas,  
You can count on me.  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
and presents under the tree._

Families. They come in all shapes and sizes. Nuclear. Blended. Small. Large. Extended. Dysfunctional.

No matter what you called them, Sam was sure of one thing. The Hunters – all of them – were as much of a family as his father and Dean were.

And families pass down stories, stories that weave their way through the mouths of the young and the old. The summer at the lake; the Thanksgiving in Nantucket; the freak snowstorm at Easter time.

For the family of Hunters, however, the stories were different. The night Bobby and Daniel met each other, nearly killed each other, and then ended up hunting together. When Bobby and Daniel were trying to exorcise a spirit in Jim's church and were subsequently caught by Jim, who ended up hunting with them. The rainy night John showed up with an infant not even a year old and a little boy who didn't know what to believe anymore. The spring that Caleb showed up in Jim's confessional taking a dare from a few of his punk friends and ended up under the man's wing. The night that John came in with his seven year old son, proud as punch, after Dean made his first kill. That same night when Jim and Bobby just shook their heads, and asked themselves what the man was thinking.

But of the stories, there is one that resembles a typical family story – the Christmas where the Impala spun of the road into a tree and slowly the bond between the boys, the men, the Hunters…began to dissolve. This is the story that is only told when the men are sitting in the parlor of Jim's house, drunk as anything, with mouths that fly.

And suddenly, time begins to melt away. The couches, which are tattered and faded with age, now seem to return to their former glory where their age numbers only a few years or so. The floors do not have red carpets on them; on the contrary they are bare, and imbedded with deep scratches from the retriever pup, Gibson's, long nails. A coffee table appears in the middle of the room that Jim had disposed off two years back. Snow spread out, glistening over the wide fields that surrounded the home.

And a nine year old Sam Winchester kneels at the front window. His face, still chubby with baby fat, is glum, perched on his fists as he stares outside. He thumps his foot against the floor as he gazes outside, waiting for the Impala to pull up into the driveway, and his father, his brother, and his Caleb to get out and join them inside.

No such luck.

A small fire that Jim had lit an hour or so ago was starting to burn out, and the pastor sighed as his old, wrinkling hands crumpled up some more newspaper to throw in there. He winced a little bit as he read the headline – TWO FOUND DEAD, KILLER ON THE LOOSE – that had prompted John, Dean, and Caleb to pile into the Impala and take off. At sixteen, Caleb was just a few years older than Dean, and he never failed to notice how much Dean looked up to the young man, which scared him a bit. After all, Caleb had already been around the block and back when he was Dean's age, having smoked everything that he could and drunk himself into a stupor more than once, not to mention the _girls…_

"Jim, when are Dad and Dean going to be home?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, Sam."

"Can I _call _them?"

Jim sighed, running his hand down his neck. Sam has certainly inherited his stubbornness directly from John Winchester's genes. "Sam, didn't you just ask that a few minutes ago?"

He turned full, facing his entire body towards the pastor. _"Please?" _he begged, lacing his fingers together. "Please, please, please?"

Jim sighed, and jerked his thumb towards the kitchen where the sole phone was. "Fine," he said, "but not for too long, they're probably busy."

Sam's face lit up with glee as he scrambled up and raced for the kitchen phone line. Upon seeing the boy, Gibson perked his head up from where he had been relaxing by the fire and raced into the kitchen with such speed that he had trouble stopping himself and skidded right into the bottom of the sink. Jim winced as he heard the dog's nails marking up the floor and the _clunk _of his body hitting the opposite wall.

"Caleb, I swear to God if you hurt this car, you are _dead. _You hear me, boy, fucking _dead."_

Caleb clucked his tongue and glanced at John in the rearview mirror. The elder hunter was stretched across the back seat, hands pressed against his maimed leg. "And here I was thinking you cared all these years, Johnny."

"Caleb, I'm _serious, _drive slower."

"John, I've seen you take this car to ninety miles an hour."

"Yeah, I don't care how fast I drive it, _you _don't get to go any faster than fifty. Fifty, Caleb, fifty! This isn't fifty! Dean," he said, his son turning around, "tell me how fast he's driving."

Dean glanced over at the speedometer, which was hovering between seventy and eighty. He was torn for but a moment between loyalty to his father and loyalty to his fellow hunter, but one quick grin from Caleb and he knew that screwing with his father was far more amusing than loyalty. "He's gong forty-five, Dad."

John fumed. "He is _not _going forty-five, damn it!"

Dean twisted back around to face his father again. "Dad, would I ever lie to you?" He attempted the innocent, sweet face that Sammy could always pull of better.

John moved one hand from his leg and draped it over his chest before mumbling, "Turn around in that seat now."

"Aw, come on, what's eating you, 'Chester? Fact that I'm driving your precious car?"

"You know I hate it when you call me that," John said. Suddenly his chunky cell phone began to buzz. He began to try and find it deep within his coat pockets.

"What would you rather me call you, Win'?"

"Better than 'Lose.' Now shut your trap," he barked as he pressed SEND. "Hello?"

_"Daddy? Where are you?"_

"Sam?"

_"Yeah, it's me_. _Where are you guys?"_

John scrubbed a hand over his face. "We'll be home soon, Samuel."

_"But _when, _Dad?"_

Dean, who could clearly hear the entire conversation thanks to Sam talking so damn loud, was already beginning to feel his father bristle, and wanted to avoid his little brother getting yelled at on Christmas. He was already sour that he was getting left behind, and being hammered on by his Dad didn't exactly make for the perfect holiday. Plus, they were halfway out to Oakland when they realized that all of Sam's presents were in the trunk of the Impala, so Jim couldn't even keep him occupied with a few Christmas presents.

He snapped around and reached his hand out. "Let me talk to him." John relinquished the phone without much of a struggle, and Dean pressed it up to his ear. "Hey Kiddo, it's Dean."

_"Dean? Where are you?"_

"We're still a few hours away, Kiddo, but we'll be there before you know it."

_"Are you going to be home before Christmas is over_?"

"Yeah, we should be home before then, Kiddo."

"Tell him to be good or Santa Claus won't give him no fucking presents," Caleb send, jerking his thumb towards the trunk where the dismally wrapped packages were bouncing around thanks to Caleb's driving.

Dean pulled the phone away from his mouth for a minute. "He never believed in Santa, too damn brilliant to believe in that load of –"

_"Are you talking about me?"_

Dean brought the phone back to his mouth. "Now why would I do that, Kiddo?"

_"You and Caleb were talking about me, weren't you?"_

Dean scoffed. "No, you weren't. Jeez, a little self-centered, you aren't the _only _thing we talk about. Anyway, with Caleb's driving we should be home in three hours or so."

He could hear Sam's sharp intake of breath. _"Caleb's driving the _Impala?"

"Yeah," Dean laughed along with Caleb. In the backseat John made a noise that reminded Caleb of an angry bull getting ready to charge. "Caleb's driving. Dad busted up his leg a little bit."

_"Is he okay?"_

"He's a 'Chester, he'll be fine!" Caleb shouted loud enough for Sam to hear on the other line.

"Shut up, Caleb, and get off that phone, Dean!" John snapped. His leg and head were killing him, all he wanted was to get back to Jim's and lounge on the couch with a few Advil and shots of whiskey in him and watch Sam open his presents.

"Okay, I've got to go, we'll be home soon, Kiddo."

_"Promise?"_

Dean laughed. "Would I ever lie to you?" All of the sudden, the Impala began to skid backward and off towards the side of the road…


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural in any way, shape, or form**

**Author's Note: I'm starting to feel guilty...I _really _do love John, but it seems that in every story I protray him seeing red. And, every time, I promise to write a story showing him a positive light. I'm getting to that...eventually. For now, just remember that we really all do love John Winchester...sort of.**

_"It is the ignorant and childish part of man that is the fighting part." - Ralph Waldo Emerson_

The rear of the car smashed into a huge tree and ran upwards a little bit, causing John to tumble out of the back seat and Caleb and Dean to be thrust forward in the front.

"Fuck! What the fuck happened? How the fuck am I on the fucking floor -"

_"Dean? Are you okay?"_

Dean was only then conscious that he was still on the phone with his brother. Quick as a flash, he whipped up a lie. "Yeah, Caleb hit a bump and it jostled Dad's leg. I've really got to go now kid, bye." He hung up quickly. "Damn it, Caleb, what the hell did you do?"

Caleb was already unbuckling himself and getting out of the car. "Oh shit," he murmured, looking at the damage. Dean was hopping out of the car as well, and he whistled. "Johnny boy's going to kill me," Caleb murmured, his eyes widening.

"He sure as fucking hell will!" John yelled from the back seat, where he was struggling to get up and out of the back seat.

"Dad, hold on, don't try to come out this way!" Dean shouted. He quickly raced around and threw open the front seat, helping the irate man climb through to the front seats and get out through the front door. He started to hobble over to Caleb.

"Dad, you should really sit –"

John whipped around. "Don't try to tell me what I should and should not do, you understand me?"

Dean fell back, leaning against the wreckage of the old car and wincing as he father whaled one across Caleb's face. The younger man stumbled backwards a few paces, holding his hands up to his face as blood gushed from his nose. His face reddened in fury. "What was that for?" he shouted.

"You may be stupid enough to crash this car, but I _know _you aren't stupid enough to not understand that!"

Instantly, Caleb was shedding his sweatshirt and nodding. "Bring it on, old man!"

"What did you call me?"

"A _very _old _and _decrepit _'Chester!"_

Before Dean knew it the two were punching each other. He jumped up and sprinted over, placing himself between the two older men. "Quit it!" he shouted, putting one hand on Caleb's chest and another he pushed into his father's stomach.

"Scram, Dean!" Caleb roared.

"Don't you tell him what to do!" John yelled, grabbing Caleb by the collar.

"I said _quit it!" _Dean roared, loud enough for the birds in the tree the car was smashed into to fly away and for the two old goats butting heads to momentarily stop and stare in amazement at the young teenager.

* * *

Sam sighed as he stared at the clock.

"A watched pot never boils," Jim said from his place on the couch where he was reading the remains of the newspaper he had not yet burned.

"What?"

"Don't mind him," a young, built, blonde man smiled as he entered the living room, cradling his own cup of hot chocolate. "He speaks in foreign tongues."

"Josh!" Sam said with a grin, forgetting his impatience and springing up from his place where he was staring. The elder man crouched down and caught the boy in a light hug. He was tall, a strapping six foot five, and with a head full of blonde hair, full white smile, and bulging biceps, he looked more like an overgrown high school quarterback than a hunter.

"Didn't even hear you come in," Jim said as he folded up and paper and stood up to shake Josh's hand and offer him a light bump on the back.

"Well, what can I say, I was trained on how to snoop around by the best." He flashed a smile before he sipped his hot chocolate, wincing as he burned his tongue on it. He swore and dropped the mug in surprise, and Jim offered him a stern look.

"Sorry," he murmured, "I'll get a rag." He glanced at Sam. "You going to just stand there and gape at me or help me clean this up?"

_"Joshua," _Jim warned again.

Josh raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, moving." He trekked towards the kitchen, Sam on his tail.

"I didn't think you were coming," he admitted as Josh dug beneath the sink, looking for a rag. He boosted himself up and sat on the counter, lightly tapping the heels of his feet on the drawer beneath the countertop.

"And why wouldn't I come? It's Christmas."

"Because you never visit anymore," Sam said pointedly, with a small glare. "You cleaned out your room and everything, all that's left there is Caleb's stuff. The only time we get to see you is when you hunt with Caleb and Daddy goes with you two. But he told me and Dean –"

"Dean and I," the young man corrected, muttering darkly as he bumped his head into a pipe.

"Dean and I that he only hunts with you and Caleb 'cause Jim makes him. Jim tells him that there should be forgiveness and second chances even for the folks who don't deserve them."

The pastor, who was listening in from the other room as he lit a cigar and picked up the paper once again, chuckled to himself. Sammy Winchester – he was a therapist's dream; the type that would spill his soul to you and your brother in under a minute.

Joshua came out from under the sink, squatting on his heels. "Yeah, your Dad and I don't get on too well, Kid."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "But _why?"_

Josh ran a hand through his hair. "Anyone ever tell you that you ask too many questions?" His face was growing hot, and he felt his temper begin on its out-of-control spiral.

"Daddy tells me that every day."

"Well, your father is right about one thing, that's for sure."

* * *

Dean was nervous. He picked up a dead leaf from the ground and ripped it apart in his fingers as he watched the two older men warily.

No one had taken any action on getting them home, save him and Caleb pushing the car down so that it was now level with the ground. Caleb was now perched on the hood of the car, staring at the cars that brushed by. His hand was swelling, and by the way that he was hunched over Dean couldn't help but suspect that his father had left some bruising on the young man's stomach. Dried blood was caked underneath of his nose.

John, on the other hand, was leaned up against the other side of the tree, rubbing his injured leg, mumbling something angrily. A nice shiner was already appearing around his right eye, along with one that was blooming across his cheekbone.

Dean sighed in frustration. "Let's _call _someone to tow the car."

John gave him a look; Caleb offered a shrug.

Dean sighed. "Well, what are we going to do, just sit here?"

No response, save that of the whistling wind. Dean wrapped his arms around his sides, closing his eyes and wishing desperately for his warm winter jacket which was sitting in the back closet of Jim's house.

Exasperated, he threw his arms into the air and slapped his hands onto the frozen ground with a grunt, causing John and Caleb to peer over.

"If the two of you are too stubborn to do give in, think about _Sam _for crying out loud! We left him on Christmas in the first place, so now we're going to make him go the whole day with just Jim, the whole day with no presents?" Dean shook his head in frustration before he mumbled, "Two of you are selfish bastards…"

In an instant John had pounced upon his son, grabbing him by the shoulders. "What did you say?"

For only a moment Dean let himself tremble before he looked his father square in the eye. "I said that you're a selfish –"

John raised his hand to strike and Dean flinched before Caleb worked his way in-between, pushing the older man away. "Don't you touch him!" he roared.

Fuming, John stumbled back up, brushing dirt off himself and wincing noticeably as he put weight on his injured leg. "Don't you try to –"

"To what, Johnny boy?" Caleb shot. "To protect him? After all of those years whining at me – 'No Caleb, stay home, look after Sam and Dean' – 'No Caleb, me and your brother are going to go, you watch Sam and Dean' – 'How could you be so stupid Caleb, how could you let them out from under your feet?'" His pale face was working its way to a light pink. "I spend all those years looking after your boys and now you're going to tell me to step back?"

"Caleb," Dean whispered, "knock it off!"

John pushed his finger into the chest of the younger man. "You know perfectly well that this is a different situation."

"Do I? Do I know, Johnny boy? Because according to you, I don't know anything. According to you, I have no ideas or thoughts. I am the Winchester Boys' babysitter." He let out a hollow laugh, and then shook his head. "Or should I say _was. _Because when Joshua, when fine young Joshy-poo turned out to be the better hunter of the two of us, he was your little hunting buddy. But then you and Joshy had a little squabble and suddenly there was a big boo-boo between the two of you, and Caleb, Babysitter Extraordinaire, got promoted to Caleb, Hunter Extraordinaire. But riddle me this, John," he laughed again, and licked his chapped lips. "If you and Joshy were still speaking to each other, would Caleb be a hunter? Would Caleb be here right now? No, Caleb would be back, sitting in Jim's parlor, dressed up as Santa Claus and handing out presents."

A little bit of the swing was expelled from John's step, and his pounding heart was beginning to slow. "Caleb," he said, "you know that isn't true."

Caleb folded his arms. "No, John, I don't know. But you know what I do know? I know that I'm sick and tired of being treated like some sort of goddamn dog you can just command around. Sit Caleb! Stay Caleb! Roll over Caleb!"

John sighed, scrubbing his hand over his unshaven face. "Caleb, when Jim marched you into his home you were thirteen years old. You were a skinny, scrawny little thing with a bad attitude and a set of lungs full of cigarette smoke."

"Point being…?"

"You weren't ready to be a hunter."

"And Joshua was?"

John sighed. "Caleb, your brother…"

"Had some discipline, had overcome obstacles, he was older, he wasn't Caleb…yadda yadda yadda, I've heard the whole spiel from Jim."

"Caleb…" John said, and for a moment Dean saw his father's face appear contrite, empathy in the tone of his voice.

Caleb held up a head. "I'm not looking to make nice here, John." He sighed, and pushed his hands into the front pouch of his sweatshirt. "C'mon, Dean's right, Sammy doesn't deserve this. Let's…I dunno, call Bobby, get him to tow this thing back to the house and get this darn holiday over with." He stormed over towards the Impala and sat down on it again, digging into his pocket to light up a cigarette while Dean and John stared in dismay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural in any way, shape, or form**

_"Anger blows out the lamp of the mind." - Robert Green Ingersoll_

As soon as the three men – the two Winchesters and Caleb – had saddled their way into the house, Joshua's antenna perked up.

Something was up.

Caleb was stiff; unresponsive. He smelled like smoke, and his greeting was even kinder than usual - a quick flick of his middle finger, enough for Josh to get the message but not long enough for Jim to notice and chastise. John headed straight for a bottle of vodka. Dean flopped down on the couch and handed his brother a few boxes of meager presents, forcing a smile onto his face before he flopped down onto the couch.

Joshua didn't wait long before he escorted his younger brother outside towards the old barn. There hadn't been animals in it in nearly fifty years – Jim wasn't much of a livestock man, and his only pets were the stray dogs that followed him home looking for scraps of food and eventually wormed their way in as permanent pets. But the barn was still out back, with peeling paint and plenty of hay bales.

Caleb sat down on one of the hay bales. He could barely make out his brother's face in the darkness. He held out his own hand in front of his face, and was scarcely able to trace where his fingers began and ended.

"So," Joshua said after a few long minutes of silence, "you going to talk or should I start asking questions?"

Caleb put his hand down and sighed. "Bring on the interrogation lamps, my friend."

Joshua laughed hollowly. "It happened to you, didn't it?"

"What?"

"John."

Caleb jumped up and grabbed his brother's sweatshirt, pulling the older man's face closer to his. "Just stop talking right now, just shut the fuck up while you're ahead."

He let go of his brother and stomped only a few paces before Joshua let out a chuckle. "You aren't Johnny's little golden boy anymore, are you?" Caleb tipped his face skyward, moonbeams lighting up the gentle features on his face.

"Suddenly John isn't so in love with you anymore. He pushed you out just like he pushed me out." Joshua whistled. "Wow. I never thought I'd see the day."

Caleb spun around. "See the day…?"

"See the day when cheapskate Johnny, who will barely buy his kids even the shittiest of Christmas gifts, would give up on free babysitting from little Caleb."

Caleb punched his brother so fast Josh barely saw it coming. His eyes seared as he brought his hands to his jaw, groaned as he tried to shift it back into place. "Yup," he mumbled, "I had that one coming."

Caleb sighed and looked down at the ground. "Sorry," he mumbled. "You want ice?"

Josh shook his head, and moved towards the side of the barn where he picked up two ice cold bottles of beer he had brought out, one of which he cracked open and handed to his brother. "I'm good," he said as he pressed the other bottle to his jaw.

They sat down together, Caleb taking a swig of the drink.

"So," Josh said, "I'm guessing this means you aren't going to be sticking around here much longer."

Caleb shook his head. "Either I go or John goes."

Josh laughed. "You'll kiss and make up."

Caleb gave him a scowl. "Not this time."

Josh brought the bottle away from his face, where he poked his tender skin before he cracked open his own beer. "So I've got to pry, because I'm guessing it wasn't just that you crashed the Impala."

Caleb shook his head. "No," he mumbled, "it wasn't. Started everything, though." He sighed. "It was just…Dean got angry because the two of us were just sitting around too stubborn to do anything. Kid kinda started running his mouth, you know? And then John goes in to smack him and I don't know, it all kind of started to hit me. He's always all, 'protect them, Caleb!' and 'look after him, Caleb!' so what am I supposed to do, stand around and watch John beat the crap out of him, like Dad?"

Joshua rolled his eyes, gazing up at the stars. "Caleb, John is a lot of things, but he isn't Dad." His younger brother shot him an incredulous look before he quickly added, "Not that I'm defending him or anything, because he definitely isn't a great parent…"

"He isn't a parent period!" Caleb jumped up from the hay bale and threw down his bottle.

Joshua shook his head. "You can't try to interfere with him, Caleb. John's going to do whatever he wants to do, and no one is going to convince him otherwise. I tried to step in, tried to do what I thought was helpful and look what happened."

"So I'm just supposed to kick back and watch the show, enjoy the free popcorn, emergency exits to the left?"

_"Yes."_

Caleb fumbled words for a minute before he choked out, "Then you're an _idiot."_

Joshua shook his head before he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You'd better make up with John soon, or being here is going to be really uncomfortable for you."

Caleb shook his head. "I told you already, Josh, I'm not staying here, I'm leaving."

Josh shook his head, draining the last few droplets from his beer before he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "You aren't going nowhere."

Caleb shook his head. "I'm out of here first thing tomorrow morning."

Josh sighed and scratched his head, starting to feel his temper rise. "You aren't leaving, Caleb."

"Says who?"

"Says me!"

"You don't get to tell me whatever you want, you don't get to control me!" Caleb started to storm off before his brother threw the empty beer bottle against the side of the bar so that it shattered before he grabbed his brother, whipped him around, and took hold of him by the collar of his shirt, pulling his face closer to his own.

"You listen to me," he whispered ferociously, "and you listen good. You. Aren't. Leaving."

Caleb pulled away, mumbling, "Get off me, man." He brushed off his shoulders before he shot back, "I can do whatever the hell I want!"

Joshua shook his head. "That's not how it works! You're sixteen, you have a good thing going here. Where are you going to go, back to the streets? Back to those bums who you called your friends?"

"Hey, you know what, you don't get to pretend to care about me, alright? You didn't give a crap the first time I ended up out there."

"Yeah, well things were different then."

"How?"

Joshua roared in exasperation. "I was sixteen, I was stupid, I was ready to live my own life!"

"Exactly! _You _took off and you didn't care that you were leaving me with Dad who didn't give a shit to what I did as long as I didn't drink any of his beers."

"Yeah, well it's time for me to start caring!"

"Well you weren't caring when it counted! You weren't caring when I needed you there!" Caleb shouted. "You don't get to care now!"

"You aren't leaving and that's final! I don't even want to hear it anymore!"

"You won't have to hear anymore. In fact, you won't have to hear any more of me for a while, because I'm _leaving!"_

Dean, who was lurking with his younger brother near the back door, felt as if his stomach was going to fall out his ass at this statement. Sam looked up at him with a terrified face as the argument raged outside in the frigid December chill. "Is Caleb really going to leave?" Sam whispered.

Dean shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered. "I think so."

"First Josh and now Caleb too?" Sam asked, tears glistening in his eyes.

Dean shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips as the two of them peered back outside, where the older set of brothers were in full-fledged raging mode.

The fear in Dean's stomach was replaced by a wild animal of rage as he watched Josh grab his younger brother by the shoulders and start pushing him into the barn and even punch him across the face. Before the word, "No!" parted from Sam's lips to stop his brother Dean threw the back door open and was out like a bullet, racing against the wet grass before he launched himself at Joshua's back, catching the older and heavier man by surprise and pulling him to the ground.

Sam was caught for a moment between obeying his father's rules of not leaving the house after dark and helping Dean break up the fight. The choice was obvious, however, when Joshua pulled away from Dean's grasp and punched the young teenager across the face and went back to attacking his younger brother.

"Dean!" he screamed as he charged outside, slipping in the grass. He got up, panting, and barely noticing before he knelt down by his brother. "Dean?" he whispered, grabbing his brother's shoulder.

Dean pushed Sam off him and charged at Joshua again. "Stop hurting him!" he shouted.

Josh turned around and Dean instinctively put his hands up to block another blow. "Will you get the hell out of here?"

Caleb took the opportunity to deck his brother across the face. Joshua stumbled backwards, reeling from the strength of the blow.

His words were spoken quietly and practically drowned out by Bobby yelling for everyone to, 'get yourselves the hell out here 'cause we're all beatin' the crap out of each other!' but Dean heard every word clearly,

"You leave them alone."

Jim was outside first, followed closely by a limping John. "What happened?" he cried, his eyes taking Joshua who was shaking with anger as blood gushed from his nose, Caleb who looked as if he'd just been hit by a Mack truck, Dean who was pale with a fat lip, and little Sammy who looked utterly terrified, tears clinging to his dark lashes.

"What _happened?"_

"John," Jim murmured, grabbing his friend's arm, "calm down."

"Josh was beating up Caleb!"

Josh turned to the seven year old. "How about you shut up or I'll beat you up too!"

Just as John shouted, "Don't even think about trying anything!"', Caleb screamed, "You touch him and I pry your balls off with a paperclip!"

And as Jim quickly ushered the boys inside, John and Caleb couldn't help but stare at each other.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural in any way, shape, or form**

_The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is an attribute of the strong - Mahatma Gandhi_

Sam has made it until two am, which was respectable. Dean didn't even think that the kid would make it that long. The two of them had been pushed into the small bedroom that they shared by Jim after he had checked out Dean's lip and given him a few Motrin.

"But Jim," Dean had whined as the pastor pushed him from the bathroom towards the bedroom, "come on, this isn't fair."

"Life," Jim said hurriedly, "is not fair." He smiled wearily at the young teen. "Believe me, Dean, you really don't want to witness this one."

Dean grumbled as he sat down on the bed, pressing the bag of ice to his lip. Sam gazed up at the pastor imploringly with all of the innocence a seven-year-old face could possess.

"Is Caleb going to leave?"

Jim sighed, running his fingers through his thinning hair. "I don't know, Sammy," he murmured. "I just don't know." Lacking any other source of wisdom, he pointed double bed. "Try to get some rest." Both boys began to get under the covers before he turned around, a wry smile on his face. "Of course," he said, "I know that as soon as I close this door the two of you are going to leap out of bed and press your ears against the door anyway, so I'll leave the light on so you don't trip on anything. Be sure to turn it off once you're situated, lest John find out." He winked and shut the door behind him as Sam giggled.

The two of them catapulted out of bed and once Sam was seated up against the door, Dean reached over and flicked off the light.

They listened to voices roar, the sounds of scuffles, the sounds of Jim yelling for everyone to calm down, and something that sounded strangely like a lamp breaking before the clock struck two and Sam fell asleep on Dean's lap.

Dean waited another hour before he shook his brother awake. "Sammy," he whispered, "come on, get into bed."

Sam rubbed his eyes. "Is it over?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, they've still got a few rounds to go."

"I'm awake, I'm awake."

Dean smiled and patted the mattress. "C'mon Kiddo, you're tired, get into bed."

Sam sighed and stood up, clambering into the bed while Dean remained by the door.

Nearly ten minutes of silence passed before Sam whispered, "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Merry Christmas."

Dean sighed. "Merry Christmas, Sammy."

With that, he crawled into bed after his brother, dozing on and off until about four in the morning when the door creaked open.

"Dean?" a voice whispered.

Dean sat up, slightly groggy. "Caleb?"

Caleb opened the door a little wider. "C'mon, come outside."

Dean glanced over at Sam who was still dead asleep before he pushed himself out of bed and followed Caleb silently through the darkened house and outside to the front porch where Caleb sat down in a plastic chair, groaning and pushing his hands over his eyes.

Dean wrapped his arms around his body and sat down in the other chair. "Caleb, it's freezing."

Suddenly Caleb seemed to snap out of something, and he glanced over at Dean. "Let me see your lip."

"Caleb, it's nothing."

"Dean this isn't a question, it's an order. Now let me see that lip."

Dean sighed and leaned closer for Caleb to inspect. He let out a low whistle. "I'm sorry, dude."

Dean smirked. "You looked like you just went twelve rounds with a block of cement and you're apologizing to me?"

Caleb laughed and rubbed his face, wincing. "Yeah, I guess." He looked up at the stars with a sort of wisdom and even _oldness _on his face that has no place being near a sixteen-year-old's face.

"Are you going to leave?" Dean whispered, and Caleb turned. He didn't miss how tiny Dean's voice sounded, how scared he seemed. For the first time in many years, Caleb couldn't help but marvel at how very _small _Dean seemed. He sighed.

"I don't know," he said, wiping at his runny nose with his fingers. "I mean…your Dad is still pretty angry with me, and I've…I've screwed up a lot of things here, Kiddo. I don't know if I can stay."

"Joshua wants you to stay?"

"Joshua wants me to do a lot of things, to be a lot of things." Caleb sighed and shook his head. "Joshua's a dick."

Dean gazed out into the field as well. "Yeah," he agreed, "he is."

"He doesn't mean to be," Caleb said, pulling at the fraying ends of his sweatshirt sleeves. "I mean, he always thinks that he's doing what's right. When we were kids, he was always trying to do the right thing…he would always just end up a little short, though, you know?"

Dean licked his lips and drew his body in, trying to ignore the chilly air. "Doesn't mean that he has to be such an asswipe to everyone."

Caleb glanced over. "Sammy likes him."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam is seven. He likes anyone who brings chocolate when he visits.

Caleb laughed but then his features returned to seriousness. "Listen, Dean," he said. "I don't know how much longer I'm going to be around here, so I need for you to promise me something."

Dean nodded.

"Watch out for Sammy, alright?" He chuckled. "If I had been given an older brother like you…hell, if Joshua had even been a _fraction _of what you are…well, I would have been way better off than I am today, Kiddo." He reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He flipped it open and pulled out a cigarette, and then gave the young boy a stern look. "You even _think _about lighting up or shooting something without me telling you to, I'll have you on the ground so fast you won't even know what hit you."

Dean laughed. "You know, you're going to have to stick around here if you want to make good on that one."

Caleb sighed, taking a puff of the cigarette. "What do you know, Kiddo?" he said. "I guess I do."

He thumped Dean twice on the shoulder. "Go back to bed. Your Dad is angry enough with me already, if he catches me out here with you…well, let's just say it won't be a pretty picture."

Dean smiled and gave Caleb a little wave before he opened the door and slipped back inside. Once he closed the door, he didn't even bother trying to be quiet – he sprinted into the bedroom and hopped onto the bed. "Sammy!" he whispered excitedly, grabbing his younger brother by the shoulder and giving him a slight shake. "Sammy!"

Sam rolled over, eyes flying open. "I didn't fall asleep, I've just been resting my eyes," he said quickly with a yawn. Dean rolled his eyes knowingly, but wasn't deterred.

"Caleb isn't leaving."

Sam sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah Kiddo," he whispered. He smiled as he climbed into bed, whispering, "Merry Christmas, Sammy."

* * *

Caleb jumped when the front door opened again and John came out. He slowly closed the front door and limped over to the plastic chair, easing himself into it and moaning as he jarred his leg. He lifted it up and set his foot on the porch rail so his leg was elevated and leaned back.

Unsure of what to do, Caleb offered him a cigarette.

"I hate smoking."

Caleb nodded. "Right," he mumbled, quickly stamping out his own cigarette.

John sighed. "Joshua gone?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah. Don't even think he stopped to take his super-tooth-whitening-toothpaste on the way out."

John whistled. "Wow. That's a whole lot of dedication from Josh." The two of them laughed, but awkwardly, as if they weren't quite sure exactly what to say or do or even think in each other's presence. John ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.

"Look, Caleb," he said. "I'm…I'm…"

"You know what?" Caleb said suddenly. "I know that you're going to try and apologize and I'm going to try and apologize, so let's just save each other a lot of pain, forgive, and forget."

John laughed. "Sounds good."

Caleb smirked and then his face hardened a little. "Josh was right," he sighed. "He said we'd kiss and make up." Caleb rolled his eyes. "I hate it when he's right. I mean, it's not frequent or anything, but when he's right it's _so _annoying."

John nodded. "That's brothers for you." He turned to the teenager. "You know, Caleb, a brother…it's a special thing, alright? You've got one brother out there in this whole world, you have to make it count with him, kid."

Caleb shook his head. "Yeah, that can work for Sam and Dean, but not for me and Josh."

John frowned.

"The wounds between us, they run too deep." Caleb sighed and shook his head. "I mean, when I was ten years old he just took off. He was just younger than I am, he'd barely been sixteen for an hour before he climbed out the bedroom window and left me with Dad, who isn't the definition of model citizen. I mean, the guy honestly did not care what I did or when I did it, but if he was in a bad mood he wouldn't hesitate to just start beating the crap out of me."

John grip on the armrest of the plastic chair tightened. "I'm sorry."

"Josh had pretty much been taking care of everything, so once he was gone there was really no one there…just me and my old man, and we never talked unless he was drunk. Before I knew it I was drinking too, which lead to the smoking, which led to the drugs…"

"Which led to those punk friends of yours daring you to go into a confessional and tell Jim that you raped your neighbor's gerbil?"

Caleb chuckled before he said, "And I picked Jim's and ended up here. And then Joshy-poo showed up one day and it turns out that my idiot of a brother was a damn fine hunter."

John looked over. "You're a damn fine good hunter yourself, Caleb."

Caleb sighed. "So I just spilled my side of the story to you, 'Chester." John threw him a dark look but let it slide, and Caleb pressed on, "So tell me – what _was _it that you and Josh fought about, that broke your little dynamic duo up?"

John's eyebrows crept towards his hairline. "He never told you?"

Caleb guffawed. "Oh, I asked him, but with our great communication skills? He'd just punch me in the shoulder, tell me to shut up."

John nodded slowly. "Well if he didn't tell you, then I'm not telling you."

"What?" Caleb exploded. "Come on, that's a rip!"

John folded and unfolded his hands and gazed up at the stars. "A man gets to have his secrets, Caleb."

Caleb sighed. "You know, you really piss me off sometimes."

John laughed. "Well, that makes two of us then, kid."

Caleb snorted. "And that stupid line about secrets? Totally chick flick, 'Chester."

John's head snapped towards Caleb and he offered him a dark scowl. "I don't do chick flick, boy." He groaned and pulled his legs down from the railing, standing up. "Well this old goat is going to bed, and so are you."

Caleb chuckled and the words 'yeah right' were on his lips before John gave him the hard, drill sergeant glare and he stood up, saluted sharply, and belted, "Sir yes sir, Gunnery Sergeant Hartman!"

"Shut up and go sleep," John mumbles working hard to restrain a laugh. "And if you _ever _think of showing that to Sam or Dean…"

Caleb made a face and laughed. "You're kidding, right? You swear a blue streak day and night but you won't let them watch a movie?"

"It's not the content," John said as he slowly opened the door, "I just don't need anyone else calling me Ermey."

He was halfway inside, leaving Caleb sniggering on the porch, when he stopped.

"Caleb?"

"Yeah?" the teen answered softly.

"You know that no matter now much I like you, there's still going to be fucking hell to pay for wrecking my car."

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, I know."

John sighed. "Night, Caleb," he murmured, letting the screen door bang shut behind him.


End file.
